A Hogwarts Journal
by horcruxorhallows
Summary: Dylan Watson is an eleven-year old boy, set to start his first year at Hogwarts! Follow his life via his diary through his first year at school as he encounters enemies, friends, challenges and dangers. New entires every few days!
1. Nerves (August 31st)

**_A/N: Woo! Super pumped for this project, and pretty sure I'm the first person to think of something like this. Allow me to explain some things before we get started: you're going to be reading diary entires from Dylan Watson, an eleven year old boy ready to start Hogwarts. Days occur in real time, so, as today, when this is released is the 31st of August, the time in-story is 31st of August as well. Of course, Hogwarts term begins on September 1st, so you can expect an entry tomorrow aswell. Due to the fact that I can't possibly make this boy's life interesting enough for there to be something super cool to write about EVERY DAY, you can expect entries every few days, sometimes possibly more. Enjoy! :)_**

**_P.S. Other entires will be longer than this, but this one is short because he hasn't started Hogwarts yet, of course._**

* * *

Dear Diary,

So, my step-mother got me this journal from Flourish and Blots today to 'help with my nerves.' Apparently, pouring my emotions into an inanimate object is a good way to relieve tension and stress. Personally, I think this idea is kinda stupid and a waste-of-time, but her and Dad have been going on about how they can't wait to read my entires when I come back at Christmas, so I guess I'm stuck with, uh, _you_.

According to the instruction parchment, I can extract memories from my brain and implant them into this journal. Sounds- uh- sorta unsafe and creepy, but I guess I'll do it anyways- saves writing.

Anyway, onto emotions and stuff. Let's see- I may or may not be freaking out about starting school tomorrow and I may or may not have vomited violently a couple of hours ago due to stress and nerves. Don't worry, I reached the toilet in time.

I've spent most of today checking over I've got everything. My owl, Lynx; my new wand (10 and a half inches, birch and rigid); my books, all the way from _A Thousand and One Potion Recipes _to _Transfiguring Your Turtle_; robes; and last, but not least, my ticket onto Platform 9 3/4.

I'm not really nervous about getting onto the platform anymore. I was at first, but Dad took me to Kings Cross so I could practice without other wizards and witches having to wait behind me. It's pretty easy. All I had to do was run at the wall and, poof, there I was, on Platform 9 3/4. I did get some funny looks though the first time I did it- I was sprinting full pelt at the barrier.

I just sent off a letter to my friend Noah a couple of minutes ago. I told him how nervous I am and I've just got a reply. He's sitting up awake too, by the looks of it. It's currently midnight, so I should probably try and get some sleep soon.

I'll write in here tomorrow night when I get to my dormitory. I'll try and use the instructions to see if I can put in the memory of the Sorting. Dad told me all about the Hat and everything. Hopefully I'm in Gryffindor, otherwise I think Dad would disown me.

Goodnight, Diary.


	2. Trouble (Sept 1st)

Dear Diary,

I'm here sitting in my dormitory now. Wow, what a day it's been. I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I should start with the Hogwarts Express. Here's a brief memory from the- ah- events of the trip here.

...

_Dylan was sat opposite his friend Noah. They were talking happily about Quidditch and who would win the league. The countryside was whizzing by from the outside, leaving their old lives behind, beginning their journey to becoming wizards. Lynx was sat perched inside his cage, hooting smugly at Noah's cat, who was eyeing him with great dislike, and as though she desired nothing more than to sink her claws into Lynx's wings. Lynx seemed to be rather enjoying himself. Dylan and Noah's heads turned as the door to their compartment slid open. A gang of five boys stood there, all larger than Dylan, though about the same size as Noah. They were a mean looking bunch, all with snarls and sneers planted firmly on their troll-like faces. 'We heard you boys took the last of the Chocolate Frogs off the trolley,' said the biggest and, quite frankly, the uggliest. 'Must be sharing, mustn't we?' said another, chuckling stupidly. Noah shot a look at Dylan which plainly said; 'we're in trouble!' 'What if we don't want to share?' said Noah, with mock politeness. The leader of the group licked his lips. 'Then maybe me and the lads need to teach you a lesson or two.' Noah stood up to face them. Dylan rather thought that his friend was pushing his luck, but felt that he should probably follow his lead. The boys roared with laughter. 'You two think you can take us, do you?' 'Take you where?' snarled Noah. 'Can't be a date, can it, no one would want to take you to one of them-' In one swift movement, the leader of the group had pinned Noah up on the wall. Dylan pulled out his wand, not really knowing what he was doing and flicked it randomly at the boy, who recoiled from Noah, his hands blistering. Swearing loudly, he and his friends retreated, shooting evil looks at Dylan as they left that conveyed the message quite clearly; 'we'll get you.'_

...

So, I hadn't even arrived yet and we'd already made enemies. I found out from the Sorting that the leader of the group is called Damian Flint. I didn't really pay attention to the others, but I'm pretty sure one of them has the last name Goyle.

And now, onto the extremely frightening event that was the Sorting. I'm happy with where I am, but it's no less than expected, to tell you the truth. The other first years are nice, and Noah and I have made a bunch of friends already, even with some of the Hufflepuffs.

...

_The great double doors opened into the Great Hall and Dylan nearly fainted. He paused, holding up the line slightly, until Noah shoved him forward. His legs like lead, they carried him in front of a large stage, where a table stood facing the four tables lined in collums, each containing students with the colour ties red, green, yellow or blue. Longbottom began calling out names of the first years. They would come up, sit on the stool, and put the Sorting Hat on. The Sorting Hat would consider them before yelling out the house to the entire hall. Noah was called up before Dylan, given that his last name was Medley, and the Had had barely touched his hair when it had yelled; 'GRYFFINDOR!' And then, before I knew it, it was my turn. 'Ah, Dylan Watson, son of an Auror, best friend of a Medley, who's grandfather died directly at the hands of the Dark Lord during the Dark Days. Yes, you are surrounded by heroism. Must be.. GRYFFINDOR!_

...

And here I am now. Noah, James, Thomas and Sam are asleep. It's nearly midnight, and I have lessons tomorrow, starting with Potions. I'll write soon.


End file.
